


Dust in the Wind

by jennifercharter



Category: Heroes (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 18:56:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3540404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennifercharter/pseuds/jennifercharter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They are the ones who remember what was...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dust in the Wind

**Author's Note:**

> I'm adding all of my fanfiction.net stories to AO3, so please remember some of these are god-awful old, and probably dated.  
> Does anyone still read this fandom? :)
> 
> This was my first Heroes fic, short and sweet, and while I love the idea of where they could have gone with Sylar/Claire, I must sadly admit, I own no rights to them, and cannot control any of the Heroes universes. Wouldn’t that be awesome?  
> Let me know if you enjoy my offering!
> 
> Insert generic "please don't sue me over copyright because I own nothing" line.

They were a fairy tale, drifting in and out of the story of humanity.

Sometimes they would remain in a place, and sometimes, she could be persuaded to tell the story of how they’d gotten there.

She would gather the children, around a campfire, a fireplace, a table, whatever stage presented itself. She would shine, golden as she spoke, and he would stay in the shadows, her darkness.

She would tell about a cheerleader. “ _What is a cheerleader, you ask_?” A shared smirk.

She would tell about a boogeyman, and the men who tried to control him. “ _Oh, you understand what a boogeyman is?_ ”

She would tell about the men and women they had known, both before and after their travels. A saint ( _scoff_ ), a time traveling samurai, and so many others.

She would tell about how even the darkest soul could be redeemed through friendship and love.

_Yes, it’s a bit cliché. You're the romantic, not me._

A golden goddess who loved even her greatest enemy, and her greatest enemy who could love at all.

_Okay, maybe more than a bit cliché. Stop laughing, Gabriel!_

There was war, and there was peace. They would travel, regardless, and he would sometimes fight, and she would always heal.

Two sides of a coin. “ _That’s a type of currency, yes, very ancient._ ”

Sometimes, they found others like themselves, who knew what it meant to be different, special.

They became their own legends as they traveled time, as a tree they leaned against one night, turned to dust in a blink of their eyes.

Sometimes, they were a religion, their tales gospel. Prophets spoke names and languages that felt foreign even to the deities’ tongues, they were so old.

In the end not _the end_ , but the end of each segment of a journey, they would turn to each other, and take the other’s hand. Despite the dust, they had each other.


End file.
